by MadMaxAU
“Carl, I— “
“I’ve got plenty more to do here,” he said bluntly. “Maybe later.”
Speechless, Virginia held out her hands, then let them drift to her sides. “All . . . all right.”
She left quickly, her mind aswirl with conflicting emotions. Somehow she had had to tell him, and yet if it stripped away too much, damaged him . . .
She had been fooled by his public face of assurance and control. Beneath that, Carl had really changed very little. He had grown as the situation demanded, but not the inner Carl. That Carl had nursed a fantasy, and now she had toppled it.
She loped across the ice, putting her confusion into exercise, a coasting mote moving across a plain the color of a blank television screen.
—Virginia, — JonVon’s well modulated voice came when she was halfway to the lock. —There are coded transmissions from near your present location. —
“Coded?” She stopped and looked around. Nobody in sight, except a few hydro workers trudging off after their shift. On the horizon one of Jim Vidor’s faery towers spiked at the stars. Farther away a launcher thrummed, driving them gradually, imperceptibly, toward the encounter with Mars. “What do you mean?”
—I broke the code, a juvenile little algorithm. The messages are quite excited and not altogether intelligible. They mention your name and Carl Osborn s. —
“Look, monitor it and try to track the source. I’ve got other things on my mind right now”
She glanced back at the dome and saw through its smudged translucence two figures confronting each other under the brilliant lights.
Carl, suited and gesturing. The second, in a simple robe…she was sure it was Saul.
With Carl in such a state . . . I wish I could warn Saul. This is definitely not the time to bother Carl with some detail.
Something was wrong. Saul waved his hands, then lurched to the side, as if to leave.
Virginia frowned. Saul looked sick . . . and something was odd about the way he moved.
Carl took a step forward and Saul pushed him away. Virginia wished she were back in her lab, could tap immediately into one of the worker robos inside the dome, listen in.
The men were shouting at each other, Saul gesturing wildly, pushing. He collided with the towering glass wall.
The dome split! At that moment a blue flash cut down it, ripping the pressure sheet, showering livid yellow sparks. Air gushed out soundlessly, a pearly fog exploding into a ball that rose and grew and shredded. How could a man shatter . . . Then she realized.
Laser.
“Saul! Run to the airlock!” But he couldn’t hear her, of course. Saul wasn’t wearing a suit.
Carl sprinted toward the lock, where the helmets were stored.
Saul stumbled, confused, and fell into a mass of vegetation. He got back to his feet among the boiling tangle of plants, but did not seem to know what to do, where he could find pressure again. The lock was only a hundred meters away, but in the disorientating plunge to vacuum the brain gave conflicting signals.
Virginia was running, shouting, without taking her eyes off Saul. His robe flapped above bone white flanks, he lurched awkwardly—away from the lock, toward the split in the dome. He was mindlessly following the gale that swept past him, sending his brown hair streaming before his eyes, tossing the plants in a whipping gale.
Carl had reached the lock. He ducked inside, slammed the hatch. It would take him at least a minute to find a helmet, get some air into his lungs ....
Virginia ran furiously, slipping maddeningly off the ice.
“Saul—no! Saul—“
She knew the effects of vacuum and cold, rupturing the blood vessels in the lungs, freezing the body’s cells, bursting the delicate membranes in eyes and ears, wreaking bloody havoc throughout the body…
He stumbled toward the shattered lip of the dome, drawn by the sucking storm. She was still running when he fell among the upright shards.
Carl rushed past her. But when they reached the crumpled figure, stiffly contorted in a position of tortured agony, they could see sharp, glassy daggers protruding from his back. The deep cuts no longer even spurted scarlet. Purpling bruises, glassy complexion. Blank, open eyes.
The dome crew came running from the far lock, bringing first aid equipment. Too late.
How strange he looks, Virginia thought. He had always seemed craggy, time worn but triumphant. Now he seemed unblemished, young, his face smooth, as if years had been erased by the soothing hand of Death.
CARL
He had always been a problem solver, a man who reflexively reacted to the unknown by breaking it into understandable pieces. Then Carl would carefully solve each small puzzle, confident that the sum of such microproblems would finally resolve the larger confusions. What’d they call it at Caltech? A “linear superposition, with separable variables”? Yeah, that’s my kind of stuff. Ol’ can do Carl.
He slammed his fist into the foamweb wall of Dome 3. But I can’t fix the past. I can’t bring Saul back. I can’t even comfort Virginia.
She sat among some wilted stems of just harvested rhubarb, staring into space. Her red rimmed eyes had lone since cleared of tears and now she was drawn, exhausted, numb. The dome crew had taken Saul’s body way, and in the confusion Virginia had dropped into silence, ashen and listless. Lani Nguyen sat with her, murmuring softly, an arm around Virginia’s shoulders.
Lain and Jeffers had arrived only moments after Saul’s death, responding to Carl’s Mayday call. There was no sign of whoever had fired the laser that punctured the dome. Lani and Jeffers had met no opposition as they sprinted from the nearest shaft. The comm radio carried no news. The dome crew, well seasoned by meteorite punctures, had replaced the shattered wall and resealed the dome quickly. Atmosphere was building to nearly normal.
Jeffers said sourly, “I still can’t figure it.”
Carl blinked, self absorbed. “What?”
“Why Saul didn’t react when the dome popped. He’s older, sure, but we’ve had plenty trainin’ with leaks in the shafts. How come Saul didn’t follow you?”
“He was disoriented even before that. He came up through the waste hatch over there, mumbling.”
“That’s crazy.” Jeffers shook his head. “The waste hatch?”
“He must’ve taken it as some sort of shortcut. Maybe he knew Virginia was talking to me and—“ Carl stopped. He didn’t want to reveal what Virginia had said, or pursue the thought that Saul was trying to stop her. It’s all so damned jumbled up! Why should Saul care about Virginia’s telling me? Or was Saul’s arrival—too late—an accident?
Jeffers bit his lip, uncomfortable. “Virginia . . . said you and Saul had a fight, sorta.”
“He was shouting stuff—just sounds, grunts, some words all mixed up.”
“You figure he was hallucinatin’ or somethin’?”
“Maybe. I hadn’t seen him in months. In fact, I hardly recognized him. He looked confused, incoherent. The man was deranged.”
“That’s why he didn’t react, get to the lock?”
“I guess. Maybe he’s been experimenting with himself, and his arrogance finally caught up with him.” Carl snorted. “Probably was looking for the Fountain of Youth.”
Jeffers looked skeptical. “Look, there’s just too damn much here. Somebody punches a hole through the dome, nearly kills all of you— “
“Targets of opportunity,” Carl said woodenly. “Unless they spotted Virginia’s tabard s she left, they must’ve thought she was in the dome, too.”
“But who’d—“
A blue flare lit a nearby stubby ice hill. The two men whirled to watch the glare fade, enveloped in the exploding ball of white spray.
“Goddamn!” Jeffers shouted. “Ever’body—helmets!”
Carl started toward Virginia, automatically clamping his own helmet O-rings, and saw that Lani was ahead of him, helping Virginia. “Crew!—get down. If they puncture the dome again— “
—I not need t
o fire again, Carl. You get the meaning. —
The voice crackled in his earphones. “Who’s that?” he snapped.
—Sergeov! I knew it, — Jeffers sent.
“Clear A channel,” Carl said to quell the rising chatter on the line. “Sergeov, what the hell— “
In the display quadrant of Carl’s helmet appeared Sergeov’s grinning, blue tinted face. The Sigil of Simon Percell was etched into each cheek.
—I hoped to get Carl and Virginia without injury. — Sergeov’s accent came through more clearly. —Even better when flies come to the honey. Jeffers, I hope we can count on you to work with the launchers when this is over. —
“When what is over?”
—You can witness for self. —
Carl had been scanning the horizon to locate their laser. Now, when he turned toward the equator, he saw figures quickly crisscrossing around the launchers. Silently a bolt struck among two running forms and sent them tumbling skyward in the burst of steam. Carl could not tell whether the people were hit directly, but there was scarcely time to consider it before more quick, blue hot flashes burst forth.
—We take half the launchers already. The rest will either surrender or we will burn them where they stand. —
“What . . .” Realization dawned. “You . . . you’ve cut off me and the others, so we can’t lead a counterattack, right?”
Sergeov turned to give a gesture. Immediately Carl felt a crump and vibrations beneath his feet. —I just now gave order to blow in the tunnels beneath your dome. Seals you in tight, right? Great, clape! —
Carl shouted, “You idiot— “
Sergeov laughed. —Like the trap, clap? — Then he sobered, smiled. —Without you the others will he less stupid. —
Jeffers broke in, —This’s mutiny, y’know. —
—Self preservation, you mean. —
Carl could hear in the venom of Sergeov’s words a rebuke of his own leadership. The man’s rantings had seemed comic, dumb, set of leftover ideas. But after the Care Package, a lot of otherwise reasonable people had developed a deep hatred of Earthside, and Sergeov had played to that, claiming that the Mars maneuver wouldn’t work.
And that much was true. The Mars plan almost certainly won’t save us. Nothing will, except a change of heart Earthside.
It had seemed to Carl that Sergeov had never proposed any valid alternatives, and nobody could really take the man seriously. Still, by adding together disgruntled spacers and hard line Ubers, Sergeov might have enough to seize and hold the launchers, if they did it just right . . . .
“You don’t like the Mars targeting?”
—It is emotional drivel. We could not brake in such thin atmosphere, everyone who stops to work it out knows that. —
“We can try. At the very least we’ll slow down some, maybe open up options on the outbound leg of this pass.”
Sergeov laughed, a dry cackle. —Do not give me speeches. Me and my friends—who be real Percells, not renegades who suck up to any Ortho, even sleep with them—we know the astrophysics as well as you, probably better. You think we cannot do simulations? We know danger of hitting Mars. At best not enough air. So only hope remaining is to brake in atmosphere of planet with thick air. —
“Venus! There’s a possible mission there, though it’s on the outbound leg. We’d have to go through perihelion first, and I don’t want to judge how we’ll survive that.”
—No perihelion. Dumb to even think we can ride that. —
“Why not? Listen, Otis, we can talk over a Venus encounter in detail if you want.”
Jeffers gestured to Carl as he spoke. Along the distant line of launchers, figures were throwing makeshift flags over the cowlings: the Uber sign.
—You see we are winning? Da, all in time. If the other launchers do not give up, we will depress the muzzles of ours, fire empty casings, and pound the others to small pieces. —
Jeffers blurted, —You’re fuckin’ crazy, you know that? —
Carl gestured for Jeffers to be quiet. “Jesus, Sergeov, you wouldn’t do that. We need those launchers—“
—To strike Mars. We shall not go crashing into Mars just to keep Earthside happy. —
“What kind of demented logic is that?”
—Clever logic, it is. Earth would like to see us suicide on Mars, end HalleyLife. What proof shall you need, after they showed how much they care? —
The sneering reference to the Care Package hurt, because Carl knew it was true. The crew had been bitter about that, and this mad rebellion was the outcome. Most spacers, notably the Blue Rock Clan of Hawaiians, stood behind Carl. But Sergeov had undoubtedly recruited among Percells, and Carl wouldn’t be surprised if there were even some Orthos helping him.
—We hit planet with atmosphere, but not Venus. —
Carl felt a chill. “So where do you want to go, Otis?”
—Is obvious. Earth. —
“Good God! That’s— “
He was about to say, That’s impossible, but then he recalled the mission options outlined long ago. The expedition had first planned on an inward-passing flyby of Jupiter, altering Halley’s orbit until rendezvous with Luna was fairly inexpensive in fuel for the Edmund. That required a delta V of 284 meters per second, a hefty velocity change.
Since the Arcist rebellion had deprived them of the south pole, they had opted to use launchers at the equator for the less effective swing past Mars; that required a velocity change of only fifty nine meters per second. The energy required scaled as the square of delta V, which meant that a maneuver by Mars, with a grazing brake in its atmosphere, took only four percent of the original mission energy requirement. They had been investing launcher time in just that maneuver for years now.
But he had forgotten another maneuver they could make from a steady equatorial push. Earth . . .
“I can’t remember the numbers, but look, we can’t— “
—I refresh you. Only takes sixty three meters per second delta V. Only slightly more push than we now give. And direction is nearly the same as Mars suicide! My crews, they now swing launchers a little. Only five degrees in declination, one hundred degrees in right ascension. You follow? Means—
“Yeah, I get it.” He’s really crazy. How do I handle him? “Okay, we can hit Earth. So what? They’ll cream us before we even get close.”
Sergeov’s dry crackle rang over the comm. Carl waited out the airless, manic laughter, telling himself, Don’t blow it. Keep him talking. Maybe somebody from below will round up some industrial lasers, circle round them, cut them off—
But he knew the chances were slim. Sergeov had played it just right, waited until Jeffers—Carl’s right arm—was trapped in the dome, too. Virginia couldn’t get control of her mechs. And as a bonus, they’d killed Saul, who might’ve rallied many people who simply wanted to survive . . . .
—Earth will not cream us. Not if we threaten to seed them with the plagues. —
“You’d threaten that?”
—Smell the fire, Meyer. Orthos blow Edmund, send Care Package. What they deserve? —
“They’ll still— “
—We make atmospheric brakes, jump off. Halley goes on. We shall make deal to not seed Earth with Halleyforms, then Earth send us to Diemos. We live there, start terraforming planet. —
Jeffers muttered, “Well, at least that part makes sense.” He looked up guiltily as Carl shot him a glance.
Sergeov heard him. —Better to dream than nightmare, eh? —
Carl tried to think. Lani stood at his side, a hand on his shoulder, mute comfort.
“Earth’ll take no chances on getting soaked with Halleyforms. They’ll nuke us,” Carl said.
—No launches! We will have standby rockets, warheads of Halley Life. Earth launch, we launch. —
Carl saw Jeffers’s expression. Sergeov’s mad scenario was all too seductive. The aerobrakes would take a lot of mech-manufacture, but that had already been designed and scheduled for the Mars maneuver.
“I don’t think you can sell this.”
—No need sell. Time to smack, Jack. You agree or we cut dome into little pieces. —
“The others won’t go along with this.”
—What others? Ortho others? They want to live, same as Percells. —
“But this endangers Earth! Any aerobrake will bring Halley Core close enough to dump some ice into the upper atmosphere. The bioforms could make it down to the surface anyway! — “
—Earthers shall have to take chance. Most of us now say piss on Earthers. —
Carl paced, oblivious to the string eyes of the dome crew, to Jeffers’s persistent gnawing at his own lip, to Virginia’s blank stare. Lani watched him pensively. He had to think, and yet his mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions. The Earth maneuver at least held out the promise of hope, of living . . . .
“Look, you ought to have a referendum on this. The whole crew— “
—Clape, ape. No voting. You forget, we have launchers. —
“There’ll be a sizable minority, maybe even a majority, that’ll oppose you.”
—We can dispose of them. —
“How?”
—Same as we do for you, once things settle down. Easy. Launchers all built, no big labor needed now. We send you all to sleep slots. —
Virginia, Lani, Jeffers—they all stared at him, listening, saying nothing. He had led them for years, for billions of miles, to come to this—a somber, stupid Waterloo. Outflanked. Outsmarted.
And to grind it in, Sergeov cackled dryly and said, —Comes Earth, then we decide on who to wake up. You make trouble now, maybe you never come out of slots? Eh? —
VIRGINIA
They had been the worst two days of her life. They seemed to stretch back for millennia, back to sunny bright days when Saul had lived, and love had carried her forward of its own momentum, overriding difficulties, smoothing over the furrowed surface of a life that was, when she managed to think of it, perpetually sharp and desperate and tight-stretched.